


Why the Things We Do

by Scriptor



Category: World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Anal, Blow Jobs, Cheating, D/s themes, I'm so sorry Renee, M/M, ambreigns - Freeform, bareback, coercion to consent
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-14
Updated: 2019-04-23
Packaged: 2019-05-07 01:58:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 12,398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14660976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scriptor/pseuds/Scriptor
Summary: Roman visits Dean soon after his injury and it gets complicated





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I never ever ever write fics having to do with cheating but since all this is fake anyway, I went with it. I also mean no disrespect to Renee; I honestly love her. But I thought the realness of this angle made for a more in-depth angsty feel between Dean and Ro. The struggle is real. 
> 
> If you’re bothered by it, don’t read it. And I apologize but the tags are there for your safety.
> 
> Ain’t no good way to end this one; I don’t like it and neither will you but hell, it’s done.
> 
> Takes place shortly after Dean left in, what, November? God it has been way too long and I miss that man.
> 
> Possibly a second portion coming soon, as requested

Dean crushed the empty can in his fist, disgusted that he was day drinking at the same time as he was appreciating the good buzz going on. He tossed the can with the other four on the coffee table and mused: normally at this time - like, 4 pm - he’d be getting ready for a show. He’d have shown up a couple hours prior, warmed up, gone over the plan for Raw or the house show or whatever. But here he was laying around in shorts on his living room couch, watching crap television and just waiting for Renee to be done with Smackdown and come home. So it was to his surprise when a knock came at the door. Blue barked and padded out of the room. Dean scratched his messy hair and shuffled towards the front of the house. He figured it’d be Fed-Ex or something but instead, a large Samoan darkened his doorstep.

“Ro… what are you doing here, man?”

“That any way to greet a friend?” Roman said, brushing past Dean and shoving a white greasy bag into his hands.

“Whassthis?”

“Fries. Three kinds.”

“You didn’t have to do that man, but I appreciate it.”

“I know ya do.” Roman threw a small duffel on the floor and made himself at home in the living room.

“So really though. What are you doing here? I mean, I don’t mind, I just figured you got stuff to do an’ I’m on the back burner for a while with this thing…” he indicated his bum elbow, awaiting surgery. He was aware he was rambling but he tended to do that anyway. Especially when he was caught off guard. And especially when he was nervous, and he was – because he and Roman hadn’t ever been the same since he left for Smackdown and even though he came back to Raw, it was just… different.

“I wanted to see how you were you holding up. Injuries suck. Hell, time away sucks. As much as the traveling and all sucks, being away from it somehow blows more. I know that.”

“Wow man, well thanks for checking on me. And for fries.” Dean opened the bag and peered inside. “Whoa, you weren’t kidding; steak, curly, and shoestring? Mah boy knows what I like.”

Roman pegged him with a very serious look then turned away and motioned to Blue, who came over and licked the man’s hands tentatively. “Yeah so, how are things really?”

“They’re ok.” Dean mumbled around a mouthful of French fry. He squeezed a ketchup packet into a corner of a paper container and reached into the cooler he planted next to the couch for another beer. “Been drinking, hanging out with the dog. How about you?”

“Ah you know, same ol’, same ol. Just working…” Roman paused and resituated himself in the chair, clearly nervous and agitated. “Truth be told, I just needed to see you.”

The air in the room clearly changed and Dean stopped mid-chew. They shared a look then glanced away, sitting in silence until Dean cleared his throat. “Look, we had our thing and I’m married now and, you know, times change…”

“I know I know but… I feel like since The Shield got back together, some of that same old spark has been there. At least for me.”

With a resigned sigh, Dean nodded and relented. “Yeah ok, I felt it. But I mean, we can’t…”

“Can’t we?” Roman inquired. Uncrossing his legs and leaning his elbows on his knees. “I’m not pushing… I just… kinda want to see.”

Roman got up and walked towards the couch as Dean leaned back in an involuntary action. You get a 6’3’’ Samoan beast stalking towards you, you react. Roman crowded his space, leaned in and Dean felt the man’s breath on his neck, his face. Roman ghosted his lips as close to Dean’s as possible without actually sealing the deal – it was a tease and a taunt. A challenge. Dean’s heart was pounding out of his chest, and his brain went to flipping through memories like an old-timey penny slot machine – image after image of all the times they slept in hotel rooms before it got to where they shared just one bed; the times when Roman initiated the kiss and when Dean begged for more; every moment Roman called him ’baby boy’ before entering him; the panting sweaty mess they’d fall into as they slept, exhausted between shows and sexual transgressions.

In silent surrender, Dean closed the small gap between them and Roman was not fucking kidding: the spark was there. It was fireworks when their lips met. Roman took no time in deepening the kiss, exploring Dean’s mouth, then allowing himself to sit next to him, trailing a hand up Dean’s exposed chest and into his beard. Dean let out a satisfied groan as Roman’s hands cupped his face and looked into his eyes. “Like old times.” Roman said, smiling.

“Yeah but, we still can’t…” Dean’s protest felt half-assed and even he knew he was leaning more towards 70/30 in terms of how much he wanted to.

“Once, I have to. I need you, baby boy.”

Dean had a hard time resisting that term of endearment. It reminded him of how easy things had been with Roman in the beginning, how natural it was for him to fall into that role. He’d never done any kind of Dom/sub stuff but for Ro, he was a total submissive slut and couldn’t help himself.

Roman snaked a hand down Dean’s chest and into his pants, giving his hardening length a tentative squeeze. He grasped it and worked it to fully erect, then one deft finger crept further down, tapping Dean’s opening. With a strangled cry Dean shifted to give the other man better access. “I just really don’t know about this, Ro…” he said but made no attempt to stop the man’s advances.

“Oh I think you know about this.” Roman teased. ”Does she do this for you? Does she know how much you like it?” Roman added another finger and slowly eased them in and out of Dean’s hole, just a little, just to the first knuckle. Dean allowed his legs to splay open in a wholly lewd way, his arms sprawled behind him on the couch, head tossed back and eyes closed.

“Hmm, does she work you open the way you like? Fill you the way that makes you feel complete?” Roman pressed.

Dean struggled to answer but relented. “No, never.” He let out a long ragged breath. “God I missed this… more, Roman. Come on, more.”

Given the permission he sought, Roman got to his knees in front of Dean and removed his shorts, allowing his painfully hard cock to be freed. “Looks like you really did miss me, huh?”

“More than you know.” Dean admitted.

Roman was suddenly nervous, tense. It had been a long time, after all. Bright mid-afternoon light streamed through the shutters, exposing them more than he’d like. Walking away from an entirely exposed Dean, Roman slowly closed each blind, darkening the space around them. With a scant bit of light illuminating the room, he felt better, safer.

 “Well, much as it looks like you need some attention, I think you should start with this.” He palmed his cock through his sweats and gave Dean the look. He knew exactly what Roman wanted and he scrambled to the floor in front of Roman and assumed the position – head down, hands behind his back.

“No baby boy, you can look at me. No time for formalities – I’ve missed your mouth way too much.”

Dean groaned at the assent and leaned up to bare Roman to him. With a subdued growl in his throat, he allowed Roman to guide all of himself into Dean’s mouth, who sighed at the feeling of that warm, moist heat. It was everything in Roman’s power to restrain himself and keep a steady pace; not shove himself forcefully in Dean’s face but God, it had been too long. Dean knew all the right ways to lavish Roman with pleasure and he didn’t hesitate to use all of them.

“Okay, get up on that couch.”

Dean obeyed Roman’s command, leaning his arms over the back, head down, and ass presented as a gift to the man who taught him these ways. He remembered the first time; not some fancy hotel but some no-tell motel on the outskirts of a town. In the early days of the Shield, they couldn’t afford the Hilton and he, Roman and Seth shared one crap room. He remembered that Seth had run off with some ring rat and he and Roman were left in the room, drinking a few, watching garbage TV. They weren’t unaccustomed to the proximity but that first night, it felt different. The road got lonely and Roman was there to make him feel something akin to acceptance. Dean thought about how it didn’t feel awkward at all the first time Roman leaned in, stared at Dean’s lips, and fused them together. How glorious it felt when Roman’s big hands were all over his bruised and battered body. The first time Roman penetrated him, he felt… ascended. Like Roman was meant to be there; like they had been missing that all along.

Dean was snapped from his reverie when those big hands glided over his ass, up his back and tangled in his hair. Roman leaned over him on the couch and embraced him. “Baby boy, relax.” He heard Roman rustle around in his bag, snap a lid, and he knew he was lubing up.

He nuzzled into Dean’s neck, nipping and licking at his hot skin, tugging on his earlobe with careful teeth. “Spread your legs a little.” Dean felt Roman’s hard cock nudging at his opening and just as Roman’s arms squeezed a little tighter, grounding Dean to the here and now, he entered him with a snarl. It had been so very long since they’d felt this connection and it was instant, intense, and all the misgivings Dean had about it dissipated with the long, slow thrusts. Roman felt bigger than he remembered as he slammed into Dean time and again. The couch rubbed against his knees but the burn felt good, made him feel alive and forget entirely about how wrong this was.

Roman held his waist tight - his arms a solid weight he relished - and was unrelenting in his assault. “I missed this.” He whispered near Dean’s ear. “I missed _you._ ”

“Don’t say that. Roman I… can’t…” And Dean slumped a little, the wind taken from his sails with that admission. How could he continue after that?

“Why? It’s true. It’s always been you, Dean. You know it. I know it. Maybe _she_ needs to know it.”

“No! Are you kidding? Ro, just… keep going. Please…” Dean pleaded, leaning back into the other man. He wasn’t sure what he was even asking for, begging for. He scrubbed his brain of the bad thoughts and tried to focus on his Samoan. He wanted so much for this not to be a complicated thing, like how it was in the past. It wasn’t ever anything other than pure bliss and oh, how he wanted to feel that again.

“Roman… please…make me… feel…” Dean panted out. He was overcome with a swell of emotion because he’d craved this connection for so long; after everything the two of them had been through in the business – everything difficult Dean had lived through – the one thing that made him feel _anything_ was Roman.

“Baby boy, I’d do anything for you.” Roman picked up the pace again, slow then fast, tightening his grip on Dean’s hips. They were both panting ragged breaths, uttering sounds of pleasure and clearly hurdling towards release. “I’m not gonna last much longer, Dean. Come, come for me.”

“Fuck, that’s it, Ro. Unnnnh.” Dean bit out, spilling onto the couch and doing everything not to collapse entirely. Roman’s movements became erratic and he allowed himself to crest, slowing as he pumped into Dean, still holding him tightly. They finally flopped together on the couch, breathing and taking in both the abundant silence and weight of it all.

A chime interrupted the peace and Dean threw a hand around, seeking his phone.

“Renee will be home in 30.” He stated, looking into Roman’s eyes, seeking an answer to a question with none.

“I’ll head out.” He said, somberly.

“Prob’ly best.” Dean agreed, dragging himself to his feet, grabbing a kitchen towel, and trying to soak up the mess he’d made. “Fuck.” He whispered as he did. “I don’t know, man. I just don’t know.” Roman knew what he meant.

“Don’t beat yourself up. It’s on me. I came here.”

“I’m not mad; just… worried.”

“What’s done is done.” Roman offered. “And it was done damn good.” He joked, trying to lighten things.

“No regrets.” Dean agreed.

Roman pulled him in for a head bump. “Uce. ‘Til next time.” He kissed Dean sloppily on his temple and walked out into the bright Las Vegas afternoon.

 

Prologue:

Dean and Renee sat out in their backyard, a warm, dry Vegas breeze rustling the palm fronds that lined the fencing. Renee was telling him about the latest airplane travel disaster, as flying often means you’re more likely to encounter issues, but Dean’s phone chime every ten seconds was interrupting the story.

“Who is that?” she asked, casually. Dean’s heart raced because he’d been fucking nervous as hell for the last two weeks, thinking she’d find some evidence of his unfaithfulness. If she had, she certainly hadn’t said anything. Everything was as it normally was.

“Oh, just Roman.” He said as non-committal as possible.

“Tell him I say hey”, Renee said, then went back to regaling him about how she and Corey had a long layover in L.A.

Dean looked back down at his phone.

_Roman: I miss you, baby boy_

_Roman: I think about you all the time_

_Roman: You should come to the arena when we’re close by_

_Dean: You know I can’t do that_

_Roman: What would it take to get you to come see me?_

 

Dean looked at his wonderful wife, up to the sky – the palms silhouetted against the fading light of the day - and let out a long sigh, conflicted in what the hell he was going to do next.


	2. Dangerous territory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean has had to fight his way back from injury and illness and now he has to deal with the issue that has plagued him for some time: his relationship with Roman, whatever that may be

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a minute, huh? Well, the muse was gone for a while then Roman left and now that he's back, I feel motivated. Don't give me any shit about about dealing with real issues, please. This is still all fiction and I don't make any money, nor will I gain any fame. Sorry to come off as an ass but I was bullied in another fandom enough to delete an entire work so... I'm a bit touchy.
> 
> I have ideas for two more chapters dealing with Roman leaving and coming back so, hang in there!

“Oh come on, it’ll be fun to see everyone.” Renee urged, putting on a jean jacket and checking herself in front of the mirror. Dean was reclined on the bed, looking like he had no intention of leaving the house at all. Raw was in Vegas and aside from his wife’s all-day pleading for him to go with her and hang backstage, his phone had seen a never-ending barrage of texts when word got out he was getting close to returning. They started two weeks prior, just one or two, from various talent. They all wondered how he was doing and perhaps their seemingly genuine care surprised him.

But what really mattered – and what kept him reserved about showing his face - is that it had been months since his tryst with Roman; months since his surgery and near-death experience. And in that time, his entire world was flipped on end and he didn’t quite feel ready to be back in public light.

What killed him too, was that Seth hadn’t reached out to him during that time…but Roman did, repeatedly. Dean told him to stay away - as if it were for his own good - but it was really because he didn’t want to appear weak in front of him. All laid up in the hospital room, not even breathing on his own for a while when the infection struck. Roman was persistent in his texts, in his calls. He never let up. Dean had been in and out of consciousness when he had a vision: a visage appeared in front of blurry eyes. A beautiful tanned face, dark stubble, framed by flowing black hair. The details remained fuzzy but he heard a voice echo in his head: “I’ll be waiting for you; you just get better, Uce.”

Time passed; he got better, little by little and went back to working out and trying to be healthy. He sometimes had flashbacks of this gauzy foggy scene in his head; was it real? Had Roman visited him? Renee said she didn’t know anything about it, only that he texted her when Dean wouldn’t answer, demanding updates.

So when Raw was slated to be in Vegas, and Dean had climbed the long hard road back to as normal as possible, the texts came again in full force.

_Roman: coming to your city, babe. You gonna be around?_

_Roman: Vegas on Monday. Come see me._

Then, as the day arrived, he’d sent a few more.

_Roman: I wanna see you tonight._

_Roman: Please, baby boy_

Dammit. Dean squeezed the phone in his fist, as if that applied pressure on the plastic and electronic innards made this entire situation better. He couldn’t stop thinking about it, what they did, how they did it. How it had made him feel different and alive and guilty. Because he loved Renee and what they had. It was amazing. But the way Roman made him feel? No words.

He realized Renee had said something some minutes ago and he hadn’t answered. “Ok, I’m coming. But let’s keep it low key, ‘K?”

“Yes! I’m so excited! You love this business; don’t stay away so long. It’s bad for you.”

What was bad for him was this fucking travesty that was hiding shit. It poisoned him, ate him up inside. Dean wasn’t even a phone person so as Roman kept texting him over the last few weeks, he felt like he had to play it cool how many times he picked up the damn thing. Because his own wife would certainly notice the change in behavior. Dean threw on worn jeans and a white tee, his favorite baseball cap, and slipped on some old shoes before announcing his readiness.

They took an Uber to the Mandalay Bay center. Dean peered out the window and tried to calm himself. There was a part of him worried about his and Roman’s interaction; what it would be like. Another part was elated. Roman had taunted him last time about what Renee does and _does not_ do for him and just thinking about how the other man had worked him open so deliciously got him half hard right there in the Uber. And he didn’t tell him that he decided to go so he would surprise him and that was a special little secret he held too. Renee reached over and put her hand on Dean’s, shaking him out of his little reverie.

“Almost there. You ok?”

“Yeah” he said in a clipped tone, hopefully convincingly.

****************

“Heeeey, Deano is here!” Seth said, bringing the man into a hug and clapping him on the back. “How ya been?” Dean hesitated to answer; some deep-seated anger still banging around inside him. Seth should have been there for him too, as his friend and Shield-brother.

“Good good.” He lied.

“Well it’s great to see ya man.” He said and started to walk off before Dean made a split second decision.

“Hey, you seen Roman around?”

“Uh yeah, I thought he was in catering not long ago.”

“Thanks dude. See ya.”

Dean wandered through the halls alone – Renee had gone off to make up – and as he encountered various talent who welcomed him back and asked about the arm, he got more nervous, thinking about seeing Roman. He rounded the corner and spotted the door for catering and on a sigh, walked in.  It was crowded, which was one of the reasons he never ate shit in there, and he had to look around multiple people, scanning the throng for his man. Finally, across the sea of people, he laid eyes on him. There was an instant connection the second their eyes caught each other. Roman pegged him with a serious glare then motioned for him to leave, meet elsewhere. But there was also a hint of surprise and relief behind the man’s smile. Dean left through the door which he’d come in and Roman left out the other end and once in the hall, where there were fewer people, they moved towards each other.

In a tone of sheer awe, Roman mused. “You came; I… really didn’t think you would. I thought you were avoiding me.”

“Yeah well I guess I can’t stay away.” Dean joked, smiling. Roman leaned in like he was just about to wrap his arms around the back of his neck but then pulled back, running a hand through his hair.

“I’m not on until hour three so I have some time, if you wanna…” Roman insinuated but Dean’s heart was thumping in his chest. This was risky business. Back in the day, they kept it to hotel rooms and sometimes weekends away and no one ever knew, except maybe Seth who didn’t give a shit. But things were too different now and he felt exposed in a way that gnawed at him as they spoke.

Surreptitiously, Dean leaned in to whisper near Roman’s ear, “Give it a minute, act cool. Meet you down the hall and we’ll find somewhere.”

They went different directions, keenly aware that a couple producers had seen them and truth be told, Dean wasn’t sure if there was protocol about being backstage prior to an injury return so he pulled down his cap and sought a quiet corner of the arena. He pulled out his phone and sent Roman a quick text about where he was. After a few minutes, Dean began to feel unsettled; Roman was nowhere to be found.

As he started to doubt himself more and more, worried Roman ditched him, a firm hand on his shoulder scared the shit outta him.

“Hey, why so jumpy? We’re good here.” After a quick glance around, Roman leaned in for a kiss. Their lips met and it was pure electricity as always. Part of Dean was worried and part was enraptured to the point of not caring. Something about the way Roman smelled, the way he tasted, how he explored the curves of Dean’s mouth, his jaw, at the same time his fingers teased up the edges of Dean’s shirt set him ablaze. A hunger grew in his stomach and it felt both primal and painful – emotionally. He wanted so much to keep going – Roman was comfortable. A strength beyond measure that Dean took solace in. He could allow himself to let Roman lead, take over. When he was with Renee, he had to be in charge. This was far preferable.

When they broke apart, breathing heavily, Roman confessed, “I was so fucking worried about you.”

“Nah, you know me…” Dean teased but there was misgiving in the way his voice faltered.

“You were scared. I saw it in your face.”

Dean’s eyebrows raised in surprise.  “You _were_ there! I thought I just dreamed it. Morphine will give you some fucked up nightmares, dude.”

“I was there, a couple times. Renee and I sat there, watching you. It was gut-wrenching, man.”

“Fuck, I just, I just never knew. Why didn’t she tell me?”

“I told her not to. I didn’t want it to be…something you had to explain, you know?”

Dean rested his forehead on Roman’s shoulder, a heavy feeling washing over him. “You don’t know how much that means… to know you didn’t give up on me.”

“Dean… listen, I love you man. I won’t ever give up on you.” Roman cupped Dean’s cheek and made him look at him, really look at him.

“Fuck. We’re in trouble.”

“We’re ok. For now.” Roman assured him. He patted him on the back, soothed him. Roman knew Dean needed the anchor of touch, that physical contact to keep him aware that someone actually did care about him.

 


	3. It Took the Night to Believe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This was how it had always been between them: Dean needed to be broken down to his most minute parts then pieced back together again

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (I’m back on my bullshit; ch contains D/s stuff; spanking, paddling, etc.)
> 
> This weird thing happened as I wrote this that I both love and hate: POV shifted on its own, organically, halfway through. I was originally mad about it but I think it's right. It FELT right. So when you realized we jump out of Dean's head and into Roman's that IS intentional.
> 
> Thanks to the band Sunn o))) for the inspiration. It's not everyone's cup of tea but the atmospheric sound helped me write.

 

“Oh, hey Roman!” the high female voice caught them both by surprise, especially as the moment of recognition washed over Dean. _Renee_.

“Hey girl, how you been?” Roman let his hand fall away casually. He was always so cool under pressure; meanwhile, if Dean could be sweating _inside_ , he was. How long had she been there? Had she seen anything?

“Oh you know, just doing my thing.” Roman gave her a side hug and smiled. “Hey, I meant to thank you for watching over my boy here. I know he had a hard go of it there for a while.”

“Yeah well he’s a pretty tough guy; would barely let me do anything for him. But he’s also a survivor.”

Dean grinned and looked at the two of them; both were his rocks in completely different ways. Roman was beaming at him, a look of pride and admiration. Renee had a quirky smile he knew so well. This was going to be a really difficult night.

 

Dean enjoyed watching his friends and wife from Gorilla, being back in that atmosphere. There was always a buzz of excitement; a familiarity. His body thrummed from the roar of the crowd, the lights, all the people everywhere, all around him. He missed this and felt like being celebratory. The feeling was fleeting though when Raw ended and he knew soon, they’d be headed home to their domestic lifestyle, at least for a little bit. But a different desire was stirring in his brain. He needed to be with Roman; he was craving their connection again. Though he forced himself to shelve the way he felt after they reunited months ago, it was becoming more difficult to tamp it down. As he stood just on the other side of the partition watching crews coming off the ramp with ring parts and other equipment, he dug his fingernails into his palms to stop the gnawing need from overwhelming him. He knew Roman was probably wanting him to find him; knew he was probably in the locker room getting changed, sweaty, hair falling around his beautiful face.

Dean lashed out at the closest wall and bashed the side of his hand as hard as he could. The sting felt good as the pain bloomed out over the skin, resonated deep within the bones. Then he walked with purpose towards the back of the arena. Discretion be damned; seeing Roman tonight was too much; his brain was on overload and he couldn’t take it. He slammed through locker room doors and assessed the situation. Not many guys were left, as they tended to get changed and leave when their match was over. A couple people moved out of the way and Dean could see Roman, his back to him, shuffling things around and packing a bag. Dean stalked towards him, not even sure what he was doing anymore, just knowing he needed him. Hugging him from behind, Roman let out an audible oof.

“Ok ok, Dean, chill.”

“’M gonna tell Renee we’re going out.” Dean whispered mater-of-factly and forcing himself to let go of the big man.

“Yeah… I mean, yeah, that’s good.” Roman seemed genuinely surprised but there was a tone of happiness in his voice. “Are you sure?” he said, leaning in. “I don’t want to mess anything up.”

“No, it’s fine. I’m gonna work everything out but for tonight, while you’re here, let’s make the most of it.”

A devious grin spread across Roman’s face. “I like the sound of that.” He grabbed his bag and quickly headed out a side door. Both men seemed on edge but Dean realized that it wouldn’t be weird for them to be seen together. For years they were ‘road wives’ anyway; always traveling with each other from one town to the next. Dean’s entire body relaxed just a little bit when he realized this fact. As they made their way outside, he sent Renee a text.

_Dean: hey, gonna hang with Roman for a little while tonight. That ok?”_

_Renee: Of course! Have fun._

Dean sat back in Roman’s rental in a haze; for the first time in months he actually felt normal, at ease. Like someone else had everything in control in a world where he hadn’t had a hand on the steering wheel for quite some time. It meant he could actually inhabit a space and not feel anxious or like he was dissociating from everything around him.

Roman drove. Roman picked a hotel. Roman led them through lobbies and hallways. Neither of them bothered turning on a light in the room; there was enough ambient lighting coming off the street to illuminate corners and edges. Roman dropped his bag and came up behind Dean, who was looking out the window at the world they just shut out. Wrapping his arms around him, hands sliding down his stomach, Roman growled a satisfied little sound.

“You’ve been working out.”

“A little.”

“A little my ass.” Roman scoffed. “These abs are tight.” He hummed his approval as his fingers danced below the shirt’s hemline, exploring the skin underneath. Dean leaned his head back onto Roman’s shoulder. “I had to do something; fucking almost died like a pathetic loser.” Dean bit out.

“Hey, don’t you say that. You are not pathetic.” Roman turned Dean to look at him, gripping his shoulders tight. “You hear me?”

“Whatever.” Dean was being particularly petulant.

“Ooh baby boy, are you looking for punishment?”

Dean’s eyes squinted as he looked at Roman, then past him. “Maybe.”

“Brat. Get on that bed.”

“What if I don’t want to?”

“Hmm mmh mm, boy…” Roman warned. “How bad _do_ you want it?” That was a rhetorical question but Dean answered anyway.

“Ro, I need it bad.”

Roman made a strangled sound in his throat and lifted his shirt over his head. He quickly maneuvered Dean into a most unceremonious position: bent over the bed, forced down until his knees buckled and fell to the scratchy carpet beneath.  “Ohh izzat how it’sgon’be?” Dean asked, language slurred from the way Roman kept his face pressed into the duvet.

“Just meeting your demands.” Roman said, easing up slightly. “Besides, you been avoiding me something’ fierce and I’m not gonna stand for that.” Roman bent down and moved Dean up higher on his knees, reached around to undo his belt. He shoved the worn jeans down as far as he could then lay a firm smack to his ass, high where it hurt more. Dean took the first one fine, then a second and a third, alternating sides. But on the fourth, his breath sped up and a grunt escaped his lips.

“Checking in, Dean…”

“More.”

“Alright” Roman obliged, surprised and not. It had been a very long time since his masterful hands had laid into him. And Dean never could go too long without it; he couldn’t burn for that long. And it was obvious in their conversations, in the way Dean _looked_ at him even, that inside, the torment was eating him alive and this pain? It wasn’t a want, it was a need beyond description.

Roman’s body covered Dean from behind, enveloping him in his heat. “You want the hand or the paddle? Cuz I brought one.” He whispered in his ear, the sensation of his hot breath fanning out over Dean’s already sensitive skin.

Dean perked up at this. “Mmm, yes. Give it to me.”

Roman left him to grab the paddle, giving the accouterment a couple of tentative whiffs through the air before resuming his position behind the other man. Roman’s hand wrapped around Dean’s throat, cautiously, then squeezed a bit. “Come on, lean against the wall for me, babe.” Dean stood and lowered his eyes away from Roman but he caught him and brought him in for a searing kiss. There was nothing gentle about it and Dean melted into him. Roman’s lips trailed down Dean’s jaw as he placed open mouth kisses and slight bites along his throat. He undressed Dean the rest of the way then made his way back to his mouth, another firm, reassuring kiss.

“Alright, enough.” Roman commanded, forcing himself to break apart. “Wall. Now.”

Dean placed his hands on the wall and braced himself as Roman kicked his legs a little wider. “Mmm, this is what I remember – what I miss about us.” Roman paced a little behind him, making Dean wait. He loved to see him squirm in anticipation. He didn’t want him to know when the first hit was coming. Seconds turned into a minute at least before Roman made a swift movement to lay the paddle across Dean’s ass, then waited and assessed. Dean’s eyes were closed, his breathing even.

Roman rearranged his grip on the handle, really settled into it, and placed another good smack. Dean leaned into the wall but bounced back quickly, presenting himself again after each swing. The alternating sounds of Dean’s ragged breath and the harsh crack of wood hitting flesh punctuated the otherwise deafening silence of the room. The hum of an A/C unit the only other ambient sound between grunts and smacks. Roman let him have a few more solid thwacks before noting that Dean’s knees were a little wobbly, that his head hung low down between his arms. Maybe he’d had enough for now. Roman came up under Dean and supported his weight, which fell solidly into his own. Lowering Dean onto his stomach, Roman got out the aloe vera and started to gently massage it into the bruised flesh.

This was how it had always been between them: Dean needed to be broken down to his most minute parts then pieced back together again. Roman had always been the one who could tear down his walls and rebuild them brick by brick. As Roman’s fingers worked the lotion into Dean’s skin, he felt the unmistakable tremors of a man whose tears could not be held back anymore.


	4. Burn the Rememberance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lots of smutty goodness here.
> 
> Thanks to Katatonia for the chapter title.

Dean kept his face buried for a long time as every ounce of fear, doubt, sadness, and confusion escaped through the tears he couldn’t help but shed. Roman held him tight, his arms a blanket of reassurance, until Dean finally looked up at him. The lights of the Strip filtered in through the curtains and illuminated his cried-out eyes, the puffiness around them, and streaks of shed tears.

“Thank you. Just… for everything.” He croaked out.

“It’s nothing; I’m here for you; you know that.”

“I do. I guess I needed the reminder.” Dean quirked up a little smile and snuggled into Roman’s side. “What time is it?”

“About 2.”

“AM?”

“Yeah.”

“Shit, better check my phone.” Dean squirmed out from under Roman’s body and reached around for the device. Renee had definitely texted him. A slew of expletives left this mouth as his eyes adjusted to the screen’s brightness and her words came into view. “Shit, she wants to know where the fuck we are.”

“Here, gimme.” Roman demanded.

Dean: _Hey girl, Dean got pretty sloshed so I’m gonna let him sleep in the hotel tonight. Can drop him off tomorrow when sober._

“There. That might work.”

“Whadyou do?”

“I put off the inevitable.” he said cryptically, though they both knew what he meant. A few minutes passed before she replied.

Renee: _Thanks for looking out for him! See you tomorrow._

“You got a good girl there.” Roman admitted.

“Yeah, I know. That’s why this is so hard.”

“Don’t let it eat at you man. We’ll work it out.” Roman assured, and gathered Dean back up into his arms and kissed his forehead, his cheek, then gently, his lips. Dean greedily leaned in for a deeper connection, tongue probing Roman’s mouth for entrance. Little grunts of contentedness escaped Roman as Dean pursued him, pushed him back on the bed and lay on top, hands everywhere on his body, kneading muscles, feeling the sinewy strength beneath. Dean ground his hips on Roman’s thigh, insistent, never breaking the kiss. Roman pulled away to catch his breath and focused on where Dean’s hard cock rubbed against him, “Fuck yeah, I love when you’re desperate.”

“Fuck me, Ro’. I need it.”

Roman easily flipped Dean over onto his stomach then straddled his calves, allowing his hands to ghost over the man’s body, laying light touches from Dean’s closely cropped hair to his muscled neck, down his back, the thin waist. He skipped down to his thighs, lightly brushing against the hair, creating goose bumps in his wake. Roman returned to Dean’s ass, gently massaging where he’d abused him earlier, then spreading him slightly.

Dean turned his head to the side and raised his butt as high as he could. “You’re torturing me, aren’t you? You like to do it.”

“Ha, yeah, a little. But you love the anticipation.” Roman smirked and kept spreading Dean open, exposing his hole, tapping gently.

“Please…” Dean begged, leaning into Roman’s touch.

“You want this?” Roman asked, probing a little with his index finger. “Want me to fill you?”

“Fuck yes…” Dean hissed.

“Mmm, I wanna see you though. Turn over.”

Dean obliged and Roman took that opportunity to take Dean’s straining cock into his mouth, laving over and again the smooth skin stretched tight over the hardness. Dean let out little gasps and moans, squirming as Roman worked magic. He looked down his chest at the other man, a mix of emotions stirring within. He was so beautiful, his big strong Samoan. He took care of him, knew what he needed. Knew when to hold back and when to move forward. He knew what to say in every situation. Dean realized in that moment how much he loved him and would do anything to keep him.

Roman gave one last lick around the head of Dean’s cock and let him go, lubing up and pressing Dean’s knees towards his chest, opening him to the bigger man. Dean’s eyes locked onto Roman’s as he entered him slowly, inch by inch until fully seated and they both let out an uneven sigh.

“Good God…” Dean whispered. “That’s so good.”

Roman grunted and started moving, setting a torturously slow pace. He braced himself on Dean’s chest and used the leverage to hit at a different angle. The act was sweet at first, slow and gentle. But Roman increased his speed, pistoning in and out. Little beads of sweat formed on Dean’s forehead as Roman pounded into him, giving no quarter. His fingers marked Dean’s skin, his hair fell around his face, brushing against Dean’s thighs. “Yeah, hard baby. Make it hurt.” Dean pled, his pupils blown wide.

“Aw yeah, take it. That’s it.” Roman praised, fucking into him harder and harder. The slaps of flesh on flesh matched the affirmations of absolute ecstasy that fell from Dean’s lips as he barreled closer and closer to release. The head of his straining cock bobbed against his own stomach, smearing precome as it landed. Roman seemed fascinated with that sight but then looked up to meet Dean’s eyes. “Come with me, Dean.”

Untouched, Dean spilled onto his belly as Roman came with a shout, pumping through his orgasm until slumping over onto the other man. Dean’s thighs splayed open to accommodate him and he could feel Roman’s heart thudding in his chest, near his own. The steady beat pounded in his ears as the fog of sex dissipated. Dean cleared his throat and whispered, “Love you”, before drifting off to sleep.

**

The chimes of a phone alarm roused the men from their sleep, as did the slight rays of sun breaking through thick dark curtains. Roman grunted and rolled off onto his back, noting the stickiness between them, a pleasant reminder of the night’s activities.

“Come on, we gotta get you home.” He said, poking Dean’s side a little.

“Nope, let’s stay.”

“Ha, you know what we gotta do.” Dean knew he meant go home but he also knew he meant something else. The time was going to arrive when he would need to tell his wife about his boyfriend. And what THE ACTUAL FUCK was he going to do? Dean slammed his head against the pillow a few times before dragging himself to standing and heading into the shower, feeling the need to scrub the funk from his body. But he didn’t want to erase Roman’s scent that lingered; it felt dishonest, like a betrayal.

 The men got ready in virtual silence but a comfortable one. Dean sort of thought it might be awkward given the elephant in the room but no, it was like it had always been. They drove out of town towards his house, which sat amidst the background of desert. When Roman put the vehicle in park, the silence pounded in Dean’s ears.

“I think maybe you should just go and not come in or anything.”

“It might be for the best.”

“I’ll text you though, ‘k?” Dean said quietly.

“You better.” Roman smiled, rubbing Dean’s arm. He snuck in the briefest of kisses to Dean’s cheek and unlocked the door. Dean looked to the front door of his home and back at Roman, heaved a heavy sigh, and stepped out into the day.


	5. Last Song Before the Fade

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> But you don’t fuck around with relationships and it could crash and burn in a fiery and catastrophic way too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I tried to side-step the real issue as much as possible but I think it had to be mentioned because of the way I played with Dean's injury/time off. Lots of exposition but hopefully we are working ever closer to a resolution. Thanks for reading, everyone!
> 
> Thanks again to Katatonia for the title; check them out - such a good band!

“Hey babe, how was your boys’ night out?” Renee asked, sitting on the floor with Blue, who flailed while tugging at a rope toy.

“Fun. Definitely drank too much.” Dean said as cooly as he could muster. Inside, his heart pounded in his throat. She probably had no idea, none whatsoever. And that made him feel even more like a heel.

“Aww, I’m sorry. Can I get you water or Gatorade or anything?

“Yeah, any of that’d be good.” She hopped up and waited on him, which he appreciated. Laying down on the couch, he shut his eyes and let out a long exhale. After placing a glass of water on the side table and foisting some Tylenol into his palm, she went on to explain some junk relevant to their life together but just getting past that first hurdle of talking to her made him relax, though he was starting to tune out her voice. He was tired. Sore and tired. And the heavy weight of having to tell her his deep dark secret was killing him. But he decided that right then was not the time.

**

On August 13th, Dean made his in-ring return after his injury and subsequent illness. One week later, the SHIELD reunited in spectacular fashion to put Braun in his place. Dean didn’t try to conjure words to describe what this feeling was that coursed through him. There was an electricity in his blood; a thrumming throughout his entire being whenever he and his brothers worked together. He fucking MISSED this. Being in the ring, fighting, in front of the crowds – that was what made him feel alive. That and whenever he was in Roman’s presence. On Mondays, they avoided one another, acted cool; merely co-workers. On Thursdays through Saturdays, Roman and Dean stole away to hotels and indulged themselves in each other. When Dean needed the pain, Roman gave him the whip or the paddle. He put him over his knee and punished his ass, just the way Dean wanted it. The more days and nights they spent together, the better they got at hiding it. They were crafty in their smoke and mirrors and Renee was none the wiser.

On days off, he went home to her. They hiked desert paths and visited museums. She let him pick restaurants that served garbage food he loved and that she didn’t eat. Sometimes she saw marks that Roman had left and he blew them off as ring casualties; it was easy. Too easy. But the longer it went on, the more comfortable he was with her being exactly where she was in the dark.

Then, the earth served up the equivalent of a boot to the face. Early in October, a Sunday. He was home before needing to fly out to Raw when his phone rang. It hardly ever rang, just buzzed with texts.

“Hey.” Roman’s voice was shaky, unlike his normal confident demeanor.

“Hey, bud, what’s up?” Dean shifted on the couch, moved the phone to his other ear.

“I gotta tell you somethin’ and, uh, it’s not good.”

“What is it, man?”

Roman cleared his throat, composed himself. “I’m making an announcement on Raw next week. Gotta take some time off.”

He went on to explain his situation but Dean’s brain fizzled out, started buzzing like a TV going off air. He was in complete and utter shock as this man that he loved told him terrifying details surrounding his returning affliction. In a fog, he listened and tried to sound as comforting as possible but he was having difficulty wrapping his brain around it.

“I want you and Seth to come down the ramp after I say it, ok? Shield gotta represent, right?”

“Yeah…. Yeah, I’ll be there for you.” Dean swallowed a lump in his throat and whispered. “I love you.”

**

That night tore Dean apart. He knew he was crying, that he looked a wreck as he and Seth wrapped their arms around their brother in solidarity. Just like that, it all fell apart. Roman went home to aggressively attack the issue and he and Seth carried on. But nothing was the same. Nothing about wrestling felt right anymore. In the time between his return and Roman’s departure, everything was wonderful but now, a part of who he was and what the job embodied died out. It no long inhabited his soul the way it once did. He felt like a visitor in his own skin most days, going through the motions. Though he was no good at phones and technology, he texted Roman all the time. Sometimes they reminisced and sometimes it was just daily pleasantries, checking in on one another. Dean wanted to fly out to see him but didn’t; couldn’t really stomach it.

Renee noticed the change in his outlook and would sometimes ask if he was ok. Of course he said ‘sure’, ‘fine’ ‘yeah, just dandy’. But it was a massive lie and he started to realize that she knew it too. Weeks passed, a couple months. Dean kept up his relationship with Roman. Sometimes they texted just a few quick things and sometimes it was longer conversations about nothing, anything, stuff.

Friday evening, 10 pm; Renee was out with some friends and slated to be home soon but Dean had gotten Roman on the phone, desperate to hear his voice.

“I fucking miss you, man.” Dean said, feeling emotional.

“I know. It’s bad. I’m always thinking about you.”

“You don’t know how bad it is for _me._ I feel like I have to tell her, you know?”

“At some point, yeah.”

“Maybe sooner rather than later.” Roman was supportive of the idea but cautioned to tread lightly. They’d all known each other a really long time so there was a subconscious feeling that it could potentially go smoothly. But you don’t fuck around with relationships and it could crash and burn in a fiery and catastrophic way too.

“It’s just killing me knowing what you’re going through and I feel like such a fucking asshole because all I really want is for you to come back to me, to… _hurt_ me. I mean, I need it.” Dean admitted. His voice got low, thinking he heard his wife return but it was just a random house noise.

“Oh baby boy, you know I want that too. Soon. I think things are going really good and I’m feeling a lot better. I promise.”

Just hearing this upbeat voice helped Dean steel himself for what he was about to do. He knew he had to talk to Renee. His mind made itself up; tonight was now or never.

“I’m gonna tell her and I’ll let you know how it goes. Wish me luck.”

As Renee bustled in the door, dropping her keys and her purse, he tried to play it cool but his palms were sweaty and he internally berated himself for feeling so damned scared. But it was truth time.

“Hey, you have a good time?”

“Yeah, pretty good.”

“Cool. Well, uh, can we talk about something?”

“Sure, what’s up?”

“Let’s go to the bedroom.” Dean said, feeling like he might be more comfortable there.

Once on their bed, he laid out, ankles crossed, and stared at the ceiling, unable to really look her in the eye. She was staring at him intently, not saying anything and the tension in the room was palpable. Dean finally sat up and began.

“Ok so, this is really fucking hard for me to do and I understand if you hate me.”

“I can’t hate you if I don’t know what it is. Just tell me. I hate dragging stuff out.”

“Fine. Um, so. Um...” Dean cleared his throat, shifted uncomfortably. “Fuck. I’m just gonna say it. Roman… and I… have been… together. For a long time. Like, a long time. On and off, but still.”

Renee just stared at him, not necessarily in shock though. She had a sort of puzzled look about her. She furrowed her brow and pursed her lips, then relaxed. Looked to the window, the bathroom door, then back to him.

“Well, I can’t say I am surprised. I guess maybe I had an idea? Like, I didn’t _know_ but you two have always had a thing I couldn’t understand. That I was never a part of.”

“That’s just it. It was way before you and it wasn’t something we planned or anything. You know, when it began it was like, just the way it was. He was there when I needed him. On the road, like, all the time there for me.” Dean knew he was babbling a little but he saw that opening to let it out and God, did he need to.

“So… I guess I just want to know what this means.” She said shakily.

“Fuck if I know. I have zero idea how to navigate this because I love you both. So much.”

She almost seemed surprised by that and he couldn’t read her face.

“But we give you different things.” she said, as if that were the answer to the difficulty in the situation.

Dean inhaled deeply before speaking. “Yes, he gives me something… else. Something different that I haven’t ever shared with you.”

“I mean, besides being a guy, what else does he… give you?”

Dean scanned her face again and got up, going over to the closet where he stored the luggage he took when he went on the road. Inside was Roman’s favorite paddle, a smallish leather whip, and a rattan cane. He opted for that because it was his favorite and he hadn’t gotten it in a long time. Returning to the bed, he showed it to her.

“Rattan. Kind of smooth but delivers a serious sting. When I…get too amped up. When I’m stressed out and can’t let go… he hits me with it and I’m… somewhere else.”

Renee let out a surprised little gasp. “I never knew. Never had any idea that was something you needed.”

He assessed her expression. “I never said. It isn’t like you failed me or anything by not doing it. Fuck, I didn’t even know _I_ needed it until he did it.”

She was quiet for a little while, holding the cane in her hands, turning it over and over, looking at the object and nothing else. Dean had to break the awkward silence.

“Not telling you all this has been killing me for a long time.”

“Do you not enjoy sex with me?” She asked, nearly cutting off his admission.

“Of course I do. I don’t even… I can’t explain it. I love you both in different ways. That’s why this sucks.” Dean felt like his skin was too tight, like he was going to have a panic attack. But he also felt a huge weight lifted from his shoulders just having finally aired the dirty laundry. All in all, she wasn’t screaming at him or threatening to leave so he had to wager that was a pretty good sign. But he also had no idea what she was going to do next.

Standing, she gave the cane a few tentative whiffs in the air then looked directly at him. “Can I… try?”


	6. Negotiations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Baby I don’t think that’s a good idea.”  
> “Aww come on.” She said demurely. “Why not?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I dreaded writing this chapter. How tf does anyone work through a situation like this? Well, here's how they do it...

To say Dean was shocked was an understatement. She wasn’t kidding and her confidence shone through. She really wanted to fucking do it.

Renee whiffed the cane a few more times and turned a little playful, hitting his arm lightly. “Come on, let me. It might be fun you know?”

“Baby I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Aww come on.” She said demurely. “Why not?”

Dean hung his head and breathed steadily through his nostrils. "Well, this stuff takes a while to learn. It’s not something you just play around with.”

“Yeah but you like it right? And Roman can do it…” she trailed off, realizing that was a little bit of low blow territory, veering into revealing her underlying jealousy.

In turmoil, he played out every possible outcome to teaching her the proper caning technique; to how it would impact their relationship; to how it might sully what he had with Roman.

 “Look… it’s not you at all. It’s not something you’re… lacking.” Dean gathered his thoughts and tried to make the best case for it. A small part of him wanted her to do it, just to see how it was. How he reacted to it. It was something new they could share. But the other, louder part of his brain came to the conclusion that it was just not a part of their specific relationship. They’d never needed that between them because what they had was better. Or at least, some other sort of entity that didn’t involve the part of himself that needed pain. That was reserved for his wrestling career and Roman.

“So you’re saying it wouldn’t be good if I did it?” She asked.

“No… I mean, I don’t know. But different, and that’s not the right way to put it.”

She sat back down on the bed and sighed then very softly asked, “Can I try it just once?”

“Look baby –“

“ _Please_.” She was practically begging and Dean was at the end of what he could convince her of. Maybe she had to see it – be there – just once to see it was probably not for her.

Slowly and cautiously, he eyed her while removing his shirt. He toed off his shoes and undid his belt buckle. Next, he lowered the zipper on his jeans and shoved them down, leaving his boxer briefs on.  He reached out to her, indicating her to stand. “I’m going to lay down so you have a good angle.”

He laid out on the bed on his stomach then turned to her, indicating the top part of his ass. “You hit right here, evenly. Not the tip. Try to strike as flatly as you can. Use your wrist, not your hand or arm.”

He could tell she was scared but intrigued. “Aren’t you going to take those off?”

“No. Try that first.”

Renee repositioned her hand on the cane and adjusted her stance. She wavered between being square on with the bed and slightly askew. She tentatively moved the cane up and down, gauging distance between her and her husband. He waited, not facing her but letting her figure it out. And he waited. Her breath was heavy and he could tell she was not ready for this. Looking up, small tears had begun running down her cheeks and she was completely deflated.

“Come here.” He beckoned and she collapsed to the bed, allowing his arms to wrap around her.

“I’m sorry. I thought I could.”

“I know, but you don’t have to.” He assured. She cried for a bit, a soft sobbing until she felt she could speak again.

“I know Roman means a lot to you. But what do _I_ mean?”

“Oh Jesus, baby, it’s not… Look, I know it sounds fucking psycho but I somehow love the both of you, like, beyond belief. When I am home with you I am committed to us. I love being married to you. I’m not going off with anyone else. But when I’m with him, it’s another world entirely. It’s like you sharing me with wrestling. You know how big a part of my life it is and you can let me have that, right?”

“Yeah but this isn’t conventional in any way and I have reservations about going forward… if you stay with us both… in some way. I don’t know.”

“Yeah I don’t know either. But you know that this wasn’t something I went looking for because you weren’t good enough or something. Ok? That isn’t it. Roman fulfilled that part of me way before you. I told you that. Then you came along and I don’t know. Somehow I had to make room for all of it. Now it’s all jumbled up.” Dean babbled a little but still held her tightly. This was definitely the toughest conversation they’d ever had.

After a few minutes of quiet, save for a few little sobs on her end, the crying having mostly subsided, she straightened up a little and said, resolutely. “OK.”

“OK what?”

“OK I think I understand. And if you need to have that with him, I can… give you that. Because I’m not always there, because of schedules and stuff.”

“Really??”

“Yes. It makes no sense, I know. I realize it’s just crazy when you think about this stuff in terms of normal relationships.” She said, laughing a little. “But when have we ever been normal?”

“Ha! Yeah, we’re not.” He admitted.

“Nope. But I have a question. And you can tell me if I am way out of line here.” She began,

“Shoot.”

“Oh my god, this sounds so stupid and I’m nervous to ask this.”

Dean just smiled at her, relaxing her.

“Can I watch? Just once. I think I need to see how he does it. How he treats you. I trust him, I do. But maybe I just need to know.”

Dean laughed. He didn’t see that coming at all. “Yeah I mean, if and when he gets better…” The sick reality of all _that_ crashed in on the both of them. That uncertainty tainted the underlying emotion of love and brought them back to reality. “I’ll ask if he doesn’t mind.”

Dean hugged her tightly, feeling closer to his wife than he had in months. He realized he’d been too up in his head about everything – about hiding the truth, about how worried he was for Roman. Just talking this out was a huge relief and as they fell asleep in each other’s arms, he slept better than he had in a very long time.


	7. Inner Sanctum

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean had lowered his voice, just to be safe. It was a nice family restaurant after all. He couldn’t read Roman’s face though – wasn’t sure if he’d be completely turned off by the idea or into it. Dean himself wasn’t sure he wanted her to see that part of his life. Telling her was one thing but letting her get a full-on visual might cross some kind of line he didn’t know he had.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm very self-conscious about this chapter, but I really don't know why. Be kind, please.
> 
> Pensacola details are accurate, btw. I spend a lot of time there.

_Roman: Hey I’m gonna be in Pensacola to see the fam for a few days; I booked us a nice place_

_Dean: I’ll get a flight_

In the time after his confession to Renee, Dean’s life and their relationship improved drastically, though it was due in part to Roman being out of the picture, at least physically. He had to bide his time for just a few more weeks but things were looking up for his friend and lover, health-wise. The more positive reports he got, the fuller his heart became thinking about their reunion. When Roman texted that that he got the all-clear, Dean felt so relieved he plunked right down on the ground after a tire flip. Taking a surreptitious glance around the gym, he let the tears slide from his eyes. Knowing Roman had fought and won blew his mind and relaxed him more than he could even understand.

Florida was an entirely different creature than Nevada: humid, a little rainy, and near water, which Dean wasn’t used to. His plane began the descent to the Pensacola airport and he was reminded that Roman came from a podunk place. Charming though and whenever they had met up in his hometown, Dean at least felt like they were secluded from the rest of the world. As he walked through the small airport and saw his boy beaming at him, he thought he might cry right then and there.

Roman pulled him in for a hug, maybe holding on a little longer than most men would.

“Lookin’ good.” Dean said to him, stepping back. They both assessed the other, realizing it had been months since they had lain eyes on each other and Dean suddenly felt guilty for not having visited in that time. To break the awkwardness he said, “You hungry? I’m hungry. Let’s eat.”

“Tacos?” Roman asked, knowing full well Dean would eat the hell out of a taco.

At Cactus Cantina, Dean ate his weight in chips and cheese dip and Roman had a vegetarian burrito. They didn’t say much, though you’d think they would have a million things to catch up on.

“So you really doing alright?” Dean finally asked.

“Yeah I feel really good. There were times it sucked but I’m pretty much back to normal. You know, been working out and I’m one step closer to being medically cleared and gettin’ back in that ring.”

“Good. I mean, you know I’m happy for ya.” Dean said, dipping a chip into salsa.

There was another pause in their conversation and then Roman finally asked,

“Did you ever end up telling her?”

Dean hadn’t wanted to let him know this over the phone so this was the first opportunity for them to really discuss it.

“You know, I did actually.”

“And?” Roman’s voice was so full of hope - Dean couldn’t wait to tell him.

“Yeah it went alright. She… understands.”

“For real?”

“Yeah, she says so. I mean, we only talked about it once; I put her to it too, no kidding.”

“Dude, that’s, like, the best news. I can’t even believe it.” Roman seemed so genuinely happy.

“Yeah but there’s only one catch.”

“Oh geez.”

“She wants to watch. Just once, I guess.” Dean had lowered his voice, just to be safe. It was a nice family restaurant after all. He couldn’t read Roman’s face though – wasn’t sure if he’d be completely turned off by the idea or into it. Dean himself wasn’t sure he wanted her to see that part of his life. Telling her was one thing but letting her get a full-on visual might cross some kind of line he didn’t know he had.

“That…” Roman began, “could be arranged. What do you think? Does it complicate stuff or no?”

“Dunno. I felt like it was a miracle when she said she was ok with us being together; a total shock when she asked _that_.”

“Let’s kinda see how it goes. But for now, I got us a nice suite over on the beach; three nights; just us.”

“I like the sound of that.” Dean agreed. He chugged the rest of his beer and paid the bill.

After dinner, Roman drove them through Pensacola, along the bay, then across the bridge out to Pensacola Beach. It was sunset as they pulled up to the Portofino Island Resort and the warm glow of the sun hitting the coral colored building reminded Dean of houses in the desert. Their room was furnished with brown leather couches and dark wood accents that did not necessarily seem befitting of a beach hotel but it suited them just fine.  It was spacious and once again, Dean felt like they were shutting everything out – closing themselves into their own tiny world. How _would_ he feel about Renee knowing? Seeing?  The thing he couldn’t quite reconcile with himself was he liked that the way he was with her and the way he was with Roman were two very different _separate_ things. He was always good at compartmentalizing the two disparate loves in his life and showing her, sharing that, made him frustrated and confused.

“Wanna go down to the bar?” Roman asked while Dean was in the bathroom, trimming up his beard a little.

“Hell yeah. I want these three days to last forever.” Dean said, allowing Roman’s hands to rove all over his body until their lips met in an electrifying kiss. Dean would have preferred to just drag the man to bed then and there but he wanted a drink too.

Breaking apart, Roman whispered, “You’re amazing, you know. Now, drinks.”

Roman ushered him downstairs where they took seats at the Cobalt bar and ordered. Dean had a beer, of course and Roman a whiskey sour. The bar and pool area wasn’t too awful crowded but the ambient light from the pool and Jacuzzi cast a faint glow on their faces as they kept to themselves, trying to stay away from prying eyes. They spoke in low, hushed tones but before too long, a shrill youthful voice interrupted them.

“Hey, it’s Roman Reigns and Dean Ambrose!” A kid about ten scrambled up on a bar stool and held out a wrinkled napkin. “Can I have autographs? Please?” He amended his request at the end. Roman looked at Dean and chuckled.

“Can’t go anywhere, eh? Sure, kid. Gotta pen?” He didn’t but the bartender had one so both men scrawled their names on the napkin and the kid thanked them profusely, backing off towards where his parent sat on lounge chairs some feet away.

“Let’s go down to the beach.” Dean suggested. “Don’t need any more of that.” They both took it light-heartedly but Dean wasn’t about to do anything that would end up in the dirt sheets. Ambling across the narrow beach road and out over the dunes, the two found a spot between hotel lights, a darkened plot of sand that set them there before the vast blackness of the Gulf, lightly illuminated by the half moon. Dean plunked down and rested his elbows on his knees and Roman joined him, wrapping an arm around his side. The lulling sound of the waves approaching and retreating filled their ears along with the distant sounds of human speech at nearby condos. They sat in the relative quiet for a while before Dean finally spoke.

“Thinkin’ maybe we could Facetime or whatever. With Renee.” He let that hang out there, gauging how Roman felt. His one true worry was that Roman didn’t want to share that part of their life either.

“Oh… you mean…” Roman said.

“Yeah I mean…” Dean said, letting out a long metered sigh. “It’s weird. I feel like we have to do it because she asked and because she’s not leaving me over this. Over us. But at the same time is it gonna be too weird, you know?”

“I think, “Roman began, pulling Dean in a little closer. “that she knows what she’s doing and if she has to see it, then she needs to. You know? She feels like it might be ok just _knowing.”_

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.” Dean agreed. He snuggled deeper into Roman’s embrace but the other man tipped his face up to him; Roman’s lips ghosted over Dean’s lightly, begging for the obedience he craved. Dean could smell the remnants of whisky on Roman’s breath but the inherent taste was one he recognized as all his – he was addicted to his mouth, his movements, the way Roman cared for him. Pulling away slightly, Dean panted, “Let’s go back to the room.” Roman stood and adjusted himself in his pants, took Dean’s hand, and pulled him up the steep sand ledge towards the wooden path.

Once back in their room, Dean turned on a small side table lamp in the bedroom and began undressing, catching Roman’s gaze as he stripped. Slowly, Dean took off his shirt and unbuttoned his jeans. He left them open as he kicked off his shoes. He knew Roman liked to drag things out and this only made it better when they finally came together. Roman sat in an armchair and merely watched as Dean bared his body to him but it was more than the act of disrobing; every time they were together, Dean bared his soul too.

“Now you.” Dean said, smirking and palming himself.

“I was thinking…”

“Oh no…” Dean groaned, taking a step closer.

“Should we do it now? Just go ahead and…?” Roman suggested.

Dean’s breath caught as the idea emerged and sat between them – a pregnant pause in their back and forth foreplay.

Before answering, Dean really felt like he needed to weigh all the options and not be too hasty; he’d made enough rash decisions early on in his life. But at the same time, he already felt comfortable with her just knowing his little secret and right now, he was desperate to get Roman on top of him, inside him. He grabbed his phone out of his jeans on the bed and typed the words quickly, sneaking looks at Roman who was taking his time in undressing. Just as the last bit of clothing was removed and they stood naked before each other, Dean’s phone chimed.

“Ok, she’s down. Do you want to set some rules?”

“Well how much are we letting her in on?” Roman queried, walking towards him. “Does she want to see when I crack the flogger across the tops of your thighs?” Roman took another step closer. “How pink your ass gets after repeated hits?” And another step. “Does she want to see when I slowly work you open with my fingers?” Dean swallowed tentatively, thinking about what was to come this night and the fire of anticipation coursed through him.

“I… I think maybe all bets are off and you command me… sir.” Dean stammered, dropping to his knees and nuzzling into Roman’s crotch, his already hard cock bobbing against Dean’s cheek, his lips.

“Mmm, I love your compliance.” Roman praised. “Get her on the phone. Maybe set it up over on that dresser.”

Dean figured out what angle might best work and propped his phone up on a picture frame. He dialed, she answered and negotiations began. Roman took the lead because he understood that it might be tough for Dean in this case.

“Ok Renee, here’s how this is gonna work. You’re gettin’ a glimpse of something I hold very dear and consider very private. I’ve agreed to this because it means something to Dean and he means a lot to me.”

“OK, I understand.” She replied softly. Dean kept looking at the phone and seeing her face and Roman right in front of him made him feel conflicted. He had to steel himself, sort of separate his rational mind from his baser one. But there was much at stake here in this one night; he could not help but belabor that point. His heart was pounding as Roman snapped him from his never-ending thoughts, literally.

“Dean, try to hang with me here. It’s you and me right now. No offense,” he began, looking at the phone. “You’re a bystander.” His words were final; a period on the end of the sentence. She was to watch and not participate in any way. This was a boon given by the two men so that the three of them could move forward in some sensible way. Renee simply nodded and the men looked back at each other. Dean had a banked fire in his eyes, suddenly realizing that he was actually turned on by her watching. Roman standing before him, huge and muscled, tanned, long hair falling around his shoulders sent a shiver right through him. His man was so beautiful and he hoped Renee could see the emotions he felt for him and why they were in this place where he loved two people.

“Ok Dean, on your knees.” Roman commanded. He positioned them so Renee had a prime view and with his hand on the back of his head, guided Dean’s mouth to his cock. Dean didn’t know if Roman was trying to be extra forceful – extra dominant – but fuck if it wasn’t super hot. Roman’s cock was heavy on his tongue and he tasted the tang of precum as he swallowed around his girth. Dean didn’t want to look at the phone so he focused on Roman’s pleasure and on performing – for them both. Roman pumped his hips towards Dean faster and faster, tapping the back of his throat each time. Dean adjusted his jaw to accommodate but had to steady himself on Roman’s thighs. He could feel his cock pulsing and knew Roman was getting close. It was evident when he pushed him back and had to take a calming breath. “You’re so good at that baby boy.” He praised. Dean smiled and beamed up at his man.

Roman looked at the camera briefly and patted the bed. “Why don’t we show our guest what we do best, hmm?”

“Gladly.” Dean complied. “How do you want me?” The phone was positioned such that Renee could see the bed from the side, headboard to the left and a space between the foot and a dresser to the right.

“Bent over the bed.” Roman growled, pushing him down onto the bedspread and crowding him from behind. He leaned over to whisper in his ear. “I want to hear you, baby. Let me know much you love to be fucked.”

Dean groaned and turned his head towards the camera and Roman grabbed for the lube. Dean felt blind with lust and need and tried not to look directly at her. It was everything in his power to find a focal point: an ornate handle on the side table, a zig zag pattern in the carpet. He felt Roman’s heat behind him again as he rubbed his cock over Dean’s hole, slathering lube everywhere. “You ready for this?” Roman asked, nudging in slightly.

“Fuck yes.” Dean moaned. At the exact moment he slid inside that tight heat, Dean looked up, right at Renee and she audibly gasped, jarring them all to the blindingly harsh reality of what was transpiring.


End file.
